A/N: Thanks for all of the awesome reviews so far, you guys rock! I'm sorry that some of you found the last chapter to be sad, but sometimes fics are like fevers-they have to get worse before they get better. Keep that in mind here! And beware another DH spoiler in this chapter!
I can't seem to get the italics to load properly, so I've added ~*~ to distinguish the flashbacks as well.
Where Elizabeth Stood
Chapter 4-Being Careful What You Wish For
It seemed that Hermione was getting her wish after all. Time finally seemed to be speeding past at a rate that was bordering on obscene. She was glad that the abundance of last-minute wedding details over the next few days allowed her to escape the presence of Ron, who despite his state of drunkenness actually remembered every word of their revealing conversation, and insisted on reaffirming his position on the matter of Hermione's love life.
She was not so lucky as to avoid his younger sister, however, for she was often undertaking the same tasks to ease the bride's burden right before the wedding. Thankfully, although for once Ginny and her brother were of the same mind, she was much subtler than her older brother, who insisted on significant coughs of "Tell him!" during meals. Hermione doubted that the bruises in his leg would ever heal after all the times she'd kicked him under the table.
The only other bridesmaid was Anne, Elizabeth's younger sister, who still lived with their parents in Australia and was thus unable to participate much in the pre-wedding activities. The Prinsens would be arriving the day before the wedding and, much in the way of tradition, Elizabeth would stay with them in a London hotel so that the bride and groom wouldn't see each other.
The night before the autumnal equinox arrived and Hermione, Harry, and Ron decided to spend it quietly at home. Harry refused offers of assistance to prepare dinner, though admittedly only Hermione was sincere, and placed before them a meal of enough courses that even Ron wouldn't be able to finish.
As they chewed and praised the cook repeatedly, Harry and Ron regaled her with incidents from the Auror office she was almost completely sure were classified. This inevitably led to reminiscences of Hogwarts-Dumbledore's Army in particular-and then to Luna Lovegood. Her relationship with Ron provided good-humored fodder for many more minutes of teasing conversation, made worthwhile not only by Ron's red ears.
It was after the fourth helping of Harry's treacle tart that Ron forfeited. "No more, or I'll never be able to fit in my dress robes tomorrow."
He leaned back in his seat and patted the slight bulge that was his stomach to emphasize the point. Hermione and Harry looked at each other in utter bemusement-Ron had never finished a meal before them in all of their acquaintance--and in a fit of silliness threw their fists up in the air and cried, "Victory!"
The pair dissolved into laughter as Ron grumbled, "Yeah, yeah," and grabbed three butterbeers from the icebox. He slid them along the table to the others and it was silent as the trio popped open the tops and took the first satisfying swig.
It was decided that they would relocate to the drawing room, where a warm fire maintained the merry atmosphere. They settled into their favorite charms, falling into a familiar pattern of jokes and light-hearted banter. Hermione pressed her eyes shut, unnoticed by either of the others, and wished that she could just keep that moment forever. Her best friends and the only two men she had ever really loved.
But like a black cloud hanging in the back of her mind, Hermione couldn't help but think how long it had been since just the three of them hung out together. As if speaking her mind, Harry laughed and said wonderingly, "Man, it's been a long time since we hung out like this."
"Yeah, I know. Weird," agreed Ron, not bothering to swallow completely. "Since before Elizabeth came to live here."
Hermione winced inwardly, hoping the conversation wasn't heading toward wedding talk. She wanted just one final memory of the three of them unsullied by the changes that the morrow's wedding would undoubtedly bring.
She glanced at Harry, who was squinting down at his lap with a look of deep concentration as though calculating something. Before she could even attempt to change the subject, he's said, "I think you're right, Ron. I can't believe I didn't notice that before."
He continued the staring contest with his plate as Hermione threw a glare in Ron's direction. The red head just shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, "What'd I do?"
She rolled her eyes and glanced back at Harry, who was staring down into his lap with one hand propping up his chin. She took a deep breath, cursing Ron for bringing down their good spirits, and asked gently, "Harry, you all right?"
As though just remembering her presence, Harry looked up and met her concerned gaze. "Yeah, just thinking, that's all. It's really happening, isn't it? Tomorrow?" he said, looking all of eleven years old again.
There it was, just what she was dreading. She wanted to laugh at herself for naively believing that they could steer clear of it all evening. But instead she replied, "Yes, right on the equinox," in what she hoped was an upbeat tone.
Ron reached over and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder when Harry did not answer right away. "It'll be fine, mate," in a heartening voice.
"It'll be great," echoed Hermione, nodding fervently. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room and sleep until it was all over, but she recognized that Harry's troubles were more important than her petty yearnings.
Harry looked from one face to the other, finding comfort in each warm and supportive gaze. Sucking in a large breath, he seemed to buoy himself up somewhat and smiled. "Thanks, guys. I don't know what I'd do without you both."
Hermione smiled in reply and Ron muttered something indistinct, though the words, "Probably'd go mental," were heard quite clearly. The happy mood from earlier returned as the trio recalled those exploits not tinged with the danger of imminent death, of which there were remarkably many.
But like all good things, this too came to an end as Ron pulled another first and announced that he would be retiring to bed. Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion while Harry wasn't looking, fairly certain that she had an idea why Ron had chosen to move his bedtime up a good three hours.
"Bit early, isn't it?" she said through clenched teeth. The clock chimed ten accordingly.
With a large and wholly affected yawn, Ron said pointedly, "Well you know, gotta get my beauty sleep for Harry's big day." Hermione noticed the statement was aimed more at her and narrowed her eyes still further. With a last clap on Harry's shoulder and a cough that poorly masked Ron's suggestion to "Tell him!" Ron left the room. They could hear his feet shuffling noisily up the stairs as he made his way to the third floor and his bedroom.
After the sound of his footfalls retreated, the silence in the room was interrupted only by the loud crackling of the fire. Hermione's head was suddenly swimming with indecision; for once, she thought she should maybe just take the plunge and tell Harry the truth. At least her conscience would be clear. Her eyes wandered over to him of their own accord, but thoughts of grand confessions were wiped from her mind when she saw that Harry was again looking pensive.
She was nearer to him than she had been at the kitchen table. Without thinking of it meaning anything more than the hand of friendship, she stretched out a hand and rubbed his shoulder to bring his attention back to the present.
When his eyes met hers, she was taken aback by how wide and afraid he looked, more afraid than she had ever seen him. Hermione's eyes softened and she rose to place herself on the arm of his chair. "Harry?"
Harry's green eyes had followed her path to his chair without really seeing her. At the sound of his name, though, she saw his focus shift to her and read her concerned expression.
"I'm all right," he said, patting her leg and giving her a wan smile. "It's just, everything is going to change, isn't it?"
He looked away as he voiced his fear, into a future he feared more. Hermione saw it too: the end of the trio. She supposed it was inevitable. The three of them would each marry and eventually move away. They would gradually see each other less and less, the weekly meetings would become monthly ones. Things would improve once they all started having kids and those kids needed playmates, but it all would have deteriorated too much for any kind of return to what once was. It was clear-Harry's marriage would just be the first step in a long chain of events leading to a guaranteed future.
Hermione had never thought that far ahead, and now she wished she hadn't. Her dreary introspections were interrupted when Harry suddenly jumped up and began to pace frantically.
"I shouldn't be doing this, do you think I should be doing this?" he asked nervously. Without waiting for an answer, he went on, the anxiety in his voice escalating, "I'm too young to get married. I don't know Elizabeth at all. I'll never date anyone again!"
"Is that something you want? To date more witches before you get married?" said Hermione in bewilderment and with a trace of disdain. But she knew him well enough to give him the benefit of the doubt; his panic must have been genuine if his priorities were so out of whack.
He looked at her as if he'd just remember she was there. "Yes…no…I don't know!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair so that it stuck up all over. "I mean, if I get married now, what if I just spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if'? What if I really was supposed to be with Ginny, or what if-" He cut off, glancing over again at Hermione, who was perched on the end of the chair arm with anticipation of his next sentence running throughout her whole body. "What if I'm supposed to be with you?" he finished quietly.
Hermione made a strange coughing sound in the back of her throat that was meant to sound like a scoff. "Harry, don't be absurd!" she exclaimed, unable to meet his eyes lest he see her feelings written all over her face.
"Why is that absurd?" Harry demanded.
"It just is!"
He stopped pacing and just looked at her. She refused to read the expression in his eyes and forcibly slowed down her breathing. "So are you saying that you've never thought about it before?"
"About what?" she said, playing dumb.
Harry took a step forward and she could feel her body reaching back toward him. "About us, Hermione, you and me!" he said impatiently.
"No." She heard the word coming from far away, filling the room and the space between them. It was a lie, but one that she was used to living. She reached up to rub her neck, soothing her heart's pain, and she could feel Harry staring at her.
"Why do you do that?" he said, staring at the movement of her hand as though hypnotized.
She stilled her hand at once, suddenly self-conscious of the permanent mark that Bellatrix had left on her body. Her hand dropped into lap and without its warmth at her neck, the thin scar felt like ice tracing a line across it.
~*~
Harry, Ron, Dean Thomas, and Griphook the goblin were escorted out of the room and down to the cellar. Ron threw her one last desperate look before disappearing into the darkness, leaving her with the Malfoys, Greyback, and Bellatrix.
The only sound she could hear for the next few moments were the grunts of exertion Draco was making as he dragged the bodies of Greyback's unconscious helpers outside and the protests issued by her friends as they were taken below. She stared around the room, her mind and her pulse racing. Her eyes finally met Bellatrix's malevolent stare and she swallowed the urge to cry out in terror.
Instantly the taller witch strode forward and viciously delivered a backhanded slap that reverberated about the room and knocked Hermione's head to one side. Before she could prepare herself, Hermione heard Bellatrix's silky voice murmuring close to her ear.
"Let's say we start with a little, taster, eh, Mudblood? Crucio!"
It was worse than she could have possibly imagined, like huge pins puncturing every surface of her body. She heard the loud slam of the cellar door, blocking her from the only people who could have helped her, and knew that she couldn't hold back anymore. A long, drawn-out scream was wrenched from her lips, the sound ringing in her ears long after it died in her throat.
Bellatrix stepped forward as Hermione began to collapse. She seized Hermione's hair and pulled back sharply, hissing in her ear. "Ah yes, now you understand pain, little Mudblood. Now tell me, where did you get the sword?"
Through a haze of pain, Hermione's eyes darted to where the sword had been almost reverently placed on the table, her mind whirring as she tried to figure out a strategy to face Bellatrix without betraying the significance of Gryffindor's sword. She guessed that her best bet was to stay silent, so when her gaze returned to Bellatrix, she pressed her lips together firmly.
Sensing her captive's dissent, Bellatrix gave a nasty smile. "Oh, so the little Mudblood's not going to play," she said with a fake pout. Hermione saw the tip of Bellatrix's wand come into view and had just enough time to clench her teeth in preparation for the onslaught of pain before she heard, "Crucio!"
The pain was worse than before and seemed to last forever. Hermione could feel herself slipping and her throat nearly tore when she screamed again. She opened her eyes to find that she fallen to the floor and that Bellatrix had stepped back a few steps.
"Where did you get it, Mudblood? The sword! Where?" she demanded, flicking her wand to deliver the Cruciatus at every pause.
Hermione knew that she was screaming again. She turned onto her stomach, fighting the urge to vomit. Everything ached and she knew it would not do to say nothing for much longer. But the pain was clouding her mind, she could think of nothing but how important the sword was to Harry for destroying Horcruxes.
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"
Footsteps announced Draco's return from his assigned work. Hermione's eyes were drawn to him in her fog, the only person she knew really, and somehow she sensed a weakness in him. She sent him a pleading look, but he turned away and went to stand by his mother.
Finally she found her voice. "We found it-we found it-PLEASE!" she screamed.
Bellatrix rose to her full height. "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
The Cruciatus was placed on her again. Hermione felt as though she was being torn in half. When the curse was lifted and her vision cleared, she stayed still, hugging her limbs to her body protectively. Without shame, she cried silently to herself, knowing that she was failing everyone by not being able to think of anything to get them all out. They would all die if she could come up with a cover story for why they had had the sword.
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I shall run you through with this knife!"
Darkness was creeping at the corners of her vision, but Hermione's mind could not turn off. Why was Bellatrix so paranoid about someone getting in her vault? Hermione had an inkling that there was obviously something very important in there or else the older witch would not be so fanatical about it.
Then, another wave of pain crashed over her and, try as she might to repress it, she screamed again.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
Hermione could hear her own screams echoing off the walls as the curse of pain was once more placed upon her. Real panic began to set in, that she would die right there in Malfoy Manor having failed her friends in protecting the sword. But she couldn't think about anything but how much she hurt and the sweet release that death would bring. She sagged on the floor, her hair clinging to her sweaty forehead as dull aches riddled her limbs.
Worse than ever she screamed and through it all she could barely make out Bellatrix's shrieking. "How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
Cellar? Goblin? Hermione's mind was sluggish, she could barely remember who she was, let alone what that goblin had to do with the sword. She felt her tongue loosen in her mouth and with a voice hoarse from screaming, she rasped, "We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault."
There the truth had been wrenched from her at last.
Then, a stream of purest thought. She fought the approaching unconsciousness, forcing her eyes open. The lie that had eluded her before suddenly seized her and in the same panicked tone she continued, "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"
She promptly shut her eyes again, expecting another angry curse, but Bellatrix only replied in a derisive tone, "A copy? Oh, a likely story!"
With her eyes still shut, she silently willed them to believe her. But it wasn't so irrational: Dumbledore could have made a copy of the sword and left it in his office. Snape, the traitor, would have put that into the Lestrange vault…So what else was in the vault that Bellatrix was so worried about?
The senior Malfoy interrupted her thoughts. "But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
Shuffling steps away from her told Hermione that Draco was doing as he was bid. This was a flaw in her plan that she had not foreseen. The goblin was certain to recognize the craftsmanship of his own kind in the sword on the table not ten feet from her. He had no allegiance to one side that Hermione knew of, but perhaps she could give him a message to keep with her story?
"Copy, copy, only a copy," she was muttering, hoping to stay conscious long enough to deliver the idea to Griphook.
Unfortunately her noises only irritated her torturer, and with an angry, "Shut up, mudblood!" Hermione felt the full effects of the Cruciatus once more.
But she was determined. The goblin had to know how important the sword was to their side, and whatever his opinion of wizards, she had to make sure he testified that this one was a copy. If Voldemort got a hold of the real Gryffindor sword, she had no idea what would happen. She couldn't let her friends down.
Her body was fighting against her. It wanted sleep and darkness to heal, but she had to resist the invitation. She forced herself awake through more curses of pain and shouts from others in the room, all the while feebly stirring at Bellatrix's feet and desperately waiting to hear the goblin's confirmation either way.
"Well?" Bellatrix said to Griphook. "Is it the true sword?"
Hermione waited, holding her breath, fighting against the prickling of unconsciousness.
"No," said Griphook. "It is a fake."
"Are you sure?" panted Bellatrix. "Quite sure?"
"Yes," said the goblin.
And as Bellatrix sighed in relief, so Hermione finally succumbed to the sweet darkness.
~*~
"I do it when I'm nervous, I suppose," she answered quietly. There it was, a testament to her love for Harry, for the lengths to which she would go to ensure his protection.
"Do I make you nervous?" The question was innocent enough, but the mood shifted almost imperceptibly. His voice was throaty and tinged with something unidentifiable. The ice in her veins warmed to licks of flame. She could feel her blood pulsing in her ears. The hair on the back of her neck bristled with something like potential. It gave her a heady feeling, after such a vivid recollection of pain and suffering, to suddenly be in this situation. In a way, love was also a bit of pain and suffering.
"A little," she answered candidly.
He smiled. Hermione felt her pulse quicken as she rose from the chair, each step toward him a possibility of something more than the future she had imagined.
"Hermione," he breathed when she reached him.
Her name was like a call back to reality and she stopped moving at once. The clock struck the eleventh hour. Here was her chance, she could tell him everything right now. He was already doubting his wisdom in getting married, technically she wouldn't be ruining anything. But then as she stared up at his imploring face, she knew that any kind of confession wouldn't work out. Harry's qualms would pass by the following morning, and then what? She would have been that other woman, the girl who ruined Harry Potter's chance of happiness. That would be going against everything she stood for as his friend-and the girl who loved him.
She took a step back and felt the beginning of tears form in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the look on Harry's face. She turned around and spoke to the room at large, though her voice came out almost too quiet to hear.
"You're getting married tomorrow, Harry, to a woman who loves you and, despite the cold feet you may be feeling now, you love back." She turned back to face him slowly, fighting the tears building in her eyes, and said more than just goodnight; she said goodbye to a dream she'd been living far too long. With a soft touch on his hair, she left the room just as the tears started to fall.
She didn't see Harry close his eyes or at her touch or open again to follow her exit from the room.
There's a Place-Siobhan Donaghy Take your time, keep in mind
I will be all the strength you need
And I will show you a way
I don't mind if you cry
I want to be holding your hand
And you can feel, look at me
Don't turn away
All is lost but if you try
You can see there's a place for you
Where I will know your pain
Don't turn away
It's tender leaving, no good deceiving you
There's a place for you
You just have to keep it strong
And I won't turn away from you.
A/N: The excerpt from Deathly Hallows roughly follows what would have been Hermione's pov during the Malfoy Manor chapter. The scene is from approximately page 375-383 in the UK Bloosmbury version, and obviously is not mine. Is it bad that I enjoyed writing it though?? The lyrics written above are from a song called "There's a Place" by Siobhan Donaghy and I thought were pretty appropriate for the way Hermione's feeling at the end of this chapter. I recommend you give it a listen if you can! And again, thanks for reading!